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by graiai



Category: Marvel, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22164421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graiai/pseuds/graiai
Summary: Even for slowmo, it felt like forever.
Relationships: David Alleyne/Tommy Shepherd
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilacsigil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacsigil/gifts).



> tommy's dialogue is hidden in the css styling so that it’s screenreader accessible—so if you have trouble reading it, just turn off creator styles :)

“I’ve been thinking about this for a really long time—like _really_ long—and I know I like you and I think you like me back and I know this sounds really dumb but I think we should kiss. And maybe more than kiss. Definitely more than kiss.” 

David sat at the folding card table in their ad hoc dining room—dining area? coffee and cup noodles area, really, which wasn’t exactly the same as _dining_ , and honestly Tommy never quite got why David wanted a _table_ when both of those were designed to hold in one hand—and frowned at Tommy over his coffee, sleep in his eyes. It was cute. He was still in that ‘not processing stuff after waking up’ stage even though he’d been up for _ages_. Like six whole minutes. Tommy had no idea how people who ran on slowmo _managed_ : there weren’t enough seconds in the day when you moved that slowly, it was like wading through mud but _all the time_. After, like, fifteen seconds sitting there with his brows furrowed, David finally said, “Sorry, I didn’t catch that?” It wasn’t his Work Voice—too tired, too low, too drawn out—but it had the same rhythm, same inflection: highest on ‘catch’ (or _ketch_ , how he said it), sliding down and then halfway back up again for the question mark. _Cātch thǎt?_

Tommy made a hard line of his mouth. “I like you,” he said, and the spaces between the words slammed shut like a cell door. No way out of it now. “You like me, right?” 

“Uh, yeah? Yeah, of course I like you.” 

A weight Tommy didn’t even know was there lifted from his chest: he felt like the leading lady in one of those dumb romcoms they watched sometimes at team meetings, back when the Young Avengers were still really a _team_ , and not just a discord channel where the topic was household chores as often as it was actually fighting supervillains. Of course, there was a supervillain _on_ the team now, so that probably changed some things. “Cool,” Tommy said. “Cool. Wanna make out?” 

David blinked at him. He sat his chipped mug down on the table: it had the Damage Control company logo on it. “Oh,” he said faintly. “That kind of ‘like’,” and the weight didn’t come back—the weight _fell_ from ten feet up, knocked the wind out of Tommy, hurt as much as shattered ribs and a cracked sternum. David scrubbed at his eyes. “Uh, this is a lot for five-thirty in the morning. Sorry. I didn’t know you—” he shook his head. “I _hoped_ you were interested. I didn’t think you’d ever say anything.” 

“Hoped,” Tommy echoed. 

“Yeah.” 

“So you _do_ want—” 

“—to make out? And a billion other things. Yes.” 

Tommy surged across the apartment, faster than David must have been able to see; on slowmo, he held David’s face in his hands, the line of his cheekbones beneath his thumbs, the tips of his fingers in David’s hairline. Their lips met, and then parted. David tasted like dark roast and spearmint toothpaste, and it was kind of nasty but it was also so _him_ that Tommy didn’t—couldn’t—want anything else. 

Even for slowmo, it felt like forever. David actually knew how to kiss _well_ , knew the right angles so their noses didn’t bump, teeth didn’t clack. Knew how to touch Tommy to leave him gasping into his mouth, and then caught Tommy’s lower lip between his teeth, bringing up heat in Tommy’s face and roiling in the pit of his abdomen. 

_And a billion other things,_ he said. Tommy couldn’t even think of a million ways to touch someone, a _thousand_. But David knew every way people _could_ fuck, and probably a bunch of ways that only other things could: ghosts, living water, disembodied brains—to say nothing of what, like, _gods_ put their dicks in. 

Oh. Oh, no. Tommy pulled back from the kiss. “Oh, no,” he repeated out loud. “Did you ever run into Loki before M-Day? I do _not_ wanna know what’s been in her mouth.” 

David choked on a shocked laugh. “No. No, thank whoever kept _that_ mess out of my head.” He shuddered in Tommy’s arms for the show of it, his expression all overwrought disgust and horror. Then he cast his gaze to the digital clock on the microwave. “You know,” he said, not a trace of uncertainty in his voice, “most people, I’d call this ‘going too fast’, but you’re you, so… I don’t have to go to work for a couple hours. We could—” 

“Yes.”


End file.
